On a Hinge

swing lightly door

On a Hinge

On a hinge where doors turn
A squeak of something lacking oil
Small peeks in the crack of the opening
What pray tell was this kind of more
With only in hand his chain of charms and whistles
He pondered the fate of this moment
Slowly turning to the gaze of himself
He finally found the pathway to innocence
all made up of memories and tooth fairies
Like a quarter under his pillow and a tooth gone astray
Like a mother's story of fame & fiction
where high seas get you a baptism of fame
He married himself to this wall of experience
wondering why it had escaped him so long
and wedded himself to the fate of the child.

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

Dear Pryde,

Likewise you resonate in me. I feel a kinship of smile and soul meeting at the inkwell's deep.

Regards,
Al

[Pryde Foltz]

This piece is resonating with me almost like a prophecy. You seem to have written for someone dear to me. Powerful and eerie, my dear friend:)

[Alfred Kukitz]

So sweet of you Lydia. You are one fine lady. Thank you!

Regards,
Al

[Lydia Shutter]

The innocence of childhood is often forgotten in this cynical world we live in. Still, if we did down in memories, we can remember the joy of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. We can push aside the bad feelings life has thrown at us and be carefree.....the door swings both ways. A lovely write, Al. lydi**

[Alfred Kukitz]

My dogs, Jackson & Honey, bring out the boy in me. This boy is much happier than the child of my youth. Like most folks with imagination Peter Pan arrives unnoticed and surprises.

Thanks KL!

Regards,
Al

[Lyn Anderson]

To stay a child forever, or perhaps to die young? Is that the same thing?